


And If You're Watching Up Above

by L0S7MYW4Y



Series: You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Bullets Era Mikey Way, Dubious Morality, Frank is 19, Gerard is 23, M/M, Mikey is 20, Murder, Projekt Revolution Era Frank Iero, Revenge Era Gerard Way, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:36:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0S7MYW4Y/pseuds/L0S7MYW4Y
Summary: When Mikey was ten he saw Gerard sneaking into the garage with a scraggly orange cat pressed tightly to his chest. That struck Mikey as odd because his brother had never really liked cats, Mikey had always been the one begging and pleading their parents for a pet while Gerard grimaced and complained vehemently about even the concept of a litter box. So, curious, Mikey trailed behind him and wondered what was going on.Both a prequel and a sequel to Die Like Star-Crossed Lovers, following Mikey from his and Gerard's childhood to just over a month after the night Frank and Gerard met.





	And If You're Watching Up Above

**Author's Note:**

> If this is about you or anyone you know personally I would advise clicking back unless you really wanna read incest-y serial killer fanfic of yourself or your freinds, if thats the case then thats wonderful you do you and please never in any way let me know that you read the thing becuase that would probally drive me insane.
> 
> Additionally if you haven't read Die Like Star-Crossed Lovers you may want to go read that first but you don't have to in order to understand things.

When Mikey was ten he saw Gerard sneaking into the garage with a scraggly orange cat pressed tightly to his chest. That struck Mikey as odd because his brother had never really liked cats, Mikey had always been the one begging and pleading their parents for a pet while Gerard grimaced and complained vehemently about even the concept of a litter box. So, curious, Mikey trailed behind him and wondered what was going on. 

When he cracked open the door to peek nothing seemed unusual at first, Gerard was bent over the cat with his hands moving intently near its stomach, but then Mikey saw the knife. It was cast to the side, colored red with blood and shining brightly in the harsh glare of the single uncovered light bulb that hung from the ceiling in the center of the garage. Now that Mikey had noticed he couldn't stop noticing other things as well, the slowly growing pool of red at his brothers knees, the strangled whimpering of the cat as it clawed desperate and weak at Gerard's arms, the breathtaking serenity of his brother's face. Mikey felt a pang of want in his chest and couldn't help but wonder what it was he wanted, to be in his brother's place doing those things himself, or maybe just his brother, calm and sinister and pressed up against him.

He shook the thought away, and then slowly he creaked the door open more and cleared his throat. Gerard froze and Mikey found himself caught up in the guilty tension of his shoulders, but his brother's face had changed from a dark peacefulness to stark pants-shitting terror, so Mikey coughed and then stepped forward. 

“Can I have it's skull when your done?”

And oh god, Gerard was beaming at him, bright and sinister, and nodding enthusiastically. Mikey shook his head fondly and allowed a small smile to creep onto his own face before removing himself from the garage and leaving his brother to his work. 

That night the skull was sat on Mikey's pillow, stripped clean and smelling faintly of bleach, and Mikey smiled to himself before tucking the skull carefully into the beat-up shoebox below his bed where he kept his old journals and feel asleep thinking fondly of his brother's hands stained bright red.

**×|×|×**

They never really talked about it. Not even when as teenagers they would curl up drunk and warm in Gerards bed at midnight and ramble about anything and everything they could think of, but occasionally Mikey would enter his room at the end of the day to find things on his pillow. More skulls sometimes, but more often polaroids of animals so mutilated you couldn't even tell what they were anymore or even paintings done all in red and smelling of the blood of whatever they depicted. Mikey ended up needing a second shoebox.

Things went on like that for a few years, the polaroids becoming impossibly more grotesque and the paintings improving in quality as Gerard slowly drank his way through art school. Then, when Mikey graduated highschool and Gerard started making vauge noises at their parents about moving out, the two of them ended up in a shitty apartment together on the other side of town and things changed. 

One morning Mikey woke up to find his bed covered in pictures, a careful puzzle of severed limbs that he could piece together on his bedroom floor. When he finally found the head he gasped. It was a face he recognized, the same asshole that had tried to follow him home from the bar a few weeks ago getting more aggressive all the while. Mikey had mentioned him in passing to Gerard when they had gotten drunk together later that same week but they had both been so trashed Mikey had doubted Gerard had even remembered his own name at the time. But this, this was more than Mikey had ever expected.

It was too much, too beautiful, a stronger show of affection and devotion than even the soft quiet brushes of their lips that occurred only when Gerard was too drunk to stand and Mikey was just drunk enough to let go of his inhibitions. He had to respond, to repay him, to show his brother that he felt the same way.

**×|×|×**

Mikey started simple. Gerard had started with cats so he figured that was probably a good enough jumping off point. He could figure out where to go from there.

He tried a lot of different things, gutting, strangling, chopping them up, and while he was sure he would never tire of watching the lights in their eyes go out there was something missing. Mikey wasn't quite sure what it was until one night, up way too late and maybe a little too stoned, when he was going through his box of Gerard's polaroids. There was no art in his kills. Every single mutilated corpse in the pictures carried an air of grace and purpose and meaning. Gerard was an artist and Mikey had always known that, but he’d never noticed that the bodies themselves were the medium, not the pictures.

**×|×|×**

Artistic ability had never come easy to Mikey like it had to Gerard which was frustrating but he would make do for his brother's sake, he had to let him know, had to prove himself, and this was the only way to do it. So he studied, diligently, going through all of Gerard's art books to make sure he understood as much as he could. Then once he felt he had a handle on that he stole into Gerard's room late one night, judging by his behavior earlier he was likely out making something that would produce another souvenir for Mikey's shoebox meaning he wouldn't be home until much later, and began thumbing through his brother's sketchbook. He had to find something perfect.

As he turned the pages Mikey found familiar images scattered throughout the superheroes, vampires, and zombies that Gerard usually drew. Here and there were faceless corpses, dated days and sometimes weeks before polaroids or paintings would show up in Mikeys bed of the image fully realized, and honestly it was a little reassuring to know that Gerard practiced too. He flipped to the image that had become the guy from the bar and then thumbed back, wanting to find something Gerard would likely never finish but had put enough effort into to recognize. 

The image that ended up striking him wasn’t of a corpse though, but instead a woman who was also a violin, and that was something Mikey could work with. He could already see it in his head, delicate gouges for the details and skin stripped from her legs and pulled taunt up to her chin to make the strings. He felt his cock twitch at the mental image and then pulled out his phone to take a picture of the sketch.

Satisfied, he put Gerards things back where he had found them and returned to his room to make preparations.

**×|×|×**

By the week's end Mikey was ready, his backpack heavy on his shoulders and filled with anything and everything he thought he might need to bring Gerard's picture to life, and on his way out the door he snagged his brother’s camera receiving nothing but a light grunt from Gerard in response to his nonchalant “I'm borrowing this.” And with that Mikey headed out in the direction of one of the more preppy clubs in town, one where he wouldn't be recognized.

He had scoped out his hiding place beforehand, a doorway set into the wall of one of the alleys people would cut through to get to the bus stop, and once he was sure he was nearly indistinguishable from shadow he settled in to wait with his newly acquired 45 clenched tightly in his hand. There were a few false alarms before, finally, a girl came through the alley alone.

She was singing quietly to herself as she stumbled drunkenly through the dark shortcut, hair falling messily down her back. She wasn't perfect Mikey thought, her hair too light and her features too soft, but she would do.

With a level of deadly grace Mikey was unaware he possessed he stepped out of the shadows, grabbed her by the hair, and clocked her in the back of the head with the butt of the gun before she could make a sound. Then he pulled her back into the shadows with him and through the doorway he had been hiding in, into the empty shop behind the door.

Once he had her sufficiently secured to the chair he had set up in the middle of the room he pulled another chair from the side of the room and placed it a few feet in front of her, before dropping down into it, settling in and fiddling with the safety on his gun. After a long while the girl began to stir, groggy still from the alcohol in her system, and tried to turn over. Seconds later her eyes snapped open and she sucked in a strangled breath, tugging at her bonds for a moment before meeting Mikey's eyes.

“I would rather you didn't scream,” Mikey said, pointing the gun at her with a wry smile, “Because if you do then I'll have to fuck up that pretty face of yours and that would just ruin the image.”

The girl whimpers but keeps her mouth closed and Mikey lowers the gun.

“Good, now that we're on the same page,” Mikey rises from his chair and moves to kneel in front of her, pulling a knife from his pocket as he does so, “Any last words?”

She shrinks back into the chair but still she doesn't scream, instead she quietly rasps out two words.

“Why me?”

Mikey flicks the knife open with a shrug.

“Because you were there,” He says quietly, tracing his fingers down the left side of her sternum until he finds the gap between her fourth and fifth rib, “Not everything is about you, you know, I'm doing this for him,” Then before she can say anything else he plunges the knife hard into her chest, removing his fingers just before it hits the mark, and pushes it down until the hilt touches her chest. She opens her mouth wide taking in a deep breath but before she can scream Mikey has his hand over her mouth, “Look at me,” He hisses, twisting the knife roughly. She does, locking eyes with him as a choked sound escapes from behind his hand. “Good,” And then he pulls the knife free, maintaining eye contact until finally her eyes dim and the light behind them goes out.

Then, satisfied, Mikey opens his backpack and goes to work.

**×|×|×**

It took Mikey longer than he had expected to get everything just so and now, sitting at the bus stop and staring at the polaroid, he can't shake the feeling that there's still something wrong with the picture. He knows there's something missing but for the life of him he can't put his finger on it. Frustrated, Mikey shoves the picture carefully into the front pocket of his backpack and leans back on the bench to wait for the bus.

When he finally arrives home just as the morning light is beginning to peak through the windows Gerard is still sitting on the couch right where Mikey left him, with Nosferatu paused on the tv and bent over his sketchbook intently.

“Did you even sleep?”

Gerard just hums noncommittally, too focused on whatever he's drawing to communicate, which normally would be fine, but today of all days Mikey just needs Gerard to come out of his head for a minute.

Mikey rounds the couch and sits down across from Gerard, placing his backpack at his feet and retrieving the polaroid from the front.

“Gerard,” Mikey says, holding out the picture tentatively.

“Yhea Mikey?” Gerard says, still not looking up from his sketchbook, and Mikey can feel his hand begin to shake.

“ _Gerard_ ,” Mikey says again, something close to desperation seeping into his voice.

Gerard looks up at Mikey, and after a second his face softens and he closes his sketchbook.

“Whats up Mikes?”

Mikey holds up the photo, the back to Gerard, and nods his head at it. He's not entirely certain how to articulate it but luckily Gerard gets the message and he sets his sketchbook aside and takes the picture from Mikey gingerly. Then he flips it over.

For a moment Mikey can't read his face and prepares to bolt, but then Gerard looks up at him in awe.

“You… did this?” Gerard asks, his voice quiet, and Mikey nods slowly, “ _Fuck_ Mikey.”

Gerard is beaming at him now, the same sharp smile from the garage all those years ago, and Mikey can feel all the tension drain from his body. He lurches forward clumsily and wraps his arms around Gerard and after a moment his brother hugs him back, bone crushingly tight.

“I never thought…” Gerard is mumbling into his hair, “I would have helped, you could've told me,” Gerard moves one of his hands to Mikey's hair, petting gently, and Mikey melts into him, “Fuck Mikes you should have known that I would understand, that I would be here for you.”

And Mikey feels silly for worrying, because _of course_ Gerard gets it.

**×|×|×**

Suddenly they have a new normal. They still don't talk about it but now at least once a month Mikey comes up behind his brother while he's sketching on the couch and wraps his arms around his neck to whisper darkly in his ear.

“Can you draw something for me?”

And Gerard always does, pulling the page free and handing it over with that same sinister smile every time.

Likewise, whenever Gerard starts to get edgy and then disappears over the weekend Mikey makes sure that he's always waiting on the couch when he returns with a new polaroid or painting and a renewed sense of peace evident in his face.

Their drunken kisses have begun to get deeper and Mikey thinks that maybe Gerard might be getting close to saying something so he keeps quiet and waits for his brother to come to him instead of saying something himself.

Things continue that way for nearly a year, everything peaceful and routine, and Mikey is pretty sure he'd be happy if they just stayed like this forever. Trading pictures and feeding that place inside them both that isn't content without fresh blood, even if they never talk about it and Gerard never brings up what they do when they're drunk. 

But then Gerard brings home Frank, and things change again.

×|×|×

The sun has been up for nearly an hour and Mikey is looking at Gerard's text of _‘omw back. have surprise.’_ for the umpteenth time trying to decide whether he should start getting ready for work or wait a little longer when he hears Gerards key in the lock. The door creaks open slowly and Mikey hears Gerard say something quiet before he pushes it open the rest of the way and steps inside. There's something hesitant in his demeanor as he walks into the room and that's odd because its always been Mikey that's the hesitant one.

Gerard stops a few steps inside and hovers there, staring at Mikey with something in his eyes that still doesn't make sense. Mikey opens his mouth to say something but suddenly a new voice cuts through the silence.

“Gee what the fuck, will you just let me through the door?” A hand pushes Gerard to the side lightly and then there's a guy walking into the apartment and closing the door. The new guy sees Mikey once he turns around and he stills, eyes flicking between him and Gerard as he drops his head and lets his long hair fall into his face like a shield, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Gerard what… what is this?” Mikey says quietly. The first thought he has is that neither of them have ever brought a victim home, but Gerard looks too guilty, if that was what was up he would be smiling that sadistic smile of his. This is weird and all three of them know it.

“So… do you remember that guy on the slide in the park about four years ago?” Mikey nods dumbly, still not sure what to make of the situation, “That was Frankie,” Gerard says gesturing to the guy, Frankie apparently.

“Fucking hell Gee why would you? Jesus you can't just go telling people that,” The guy says, glowering at Gerard before turning his eyes to Mikey “And its just Frank.”

Mikey looks Frank up and down and snorts.

“Yhea right Gerard, how old is he? Fucking twelve? No eight year old could do that jesus christ,”

“Fuck you asshole i'm nineteen,” Frank spits, “What the fuck is going on here Gerard?”

Sure Frank might be a dick but Mikey wants to know the answer to that question too, so he bites back a sarcastic response and turns to his brother expectantly.

“Um okay,” Gerard says, carding his fingers through his hair a couple times, and takes a deep breath, “Frank this is my brother Mikey, he knows everything about what I do and he does the same thing,” Frank's eyes light up at that and he looks at Mikey inquisitively, “Mikes this is Frank, I picked him up for a piece but apparently he was looking to make one too and uh,” Gerard rubs at his neck and Mikey notices an angry red line across it and squints at his brother suspiciously, “Well I suggested we play hide and seek and Frankie lost so now he's mine?” Gerards says, voice rising at the end and turning the statement into a question, “Those were the rules. The winner gets the loser.”

Mikey stares at Gerard, and then at Frank.

“So you brought him home?” Mikey asks, dumbfounded.

Frank laughs darkly and moves to Gerards side, taking his hand and looking at Mikey with a challenge in his eyes.

“Well, he did a bit more than that.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Mikey stares at them for a moment. Watches as Frank fits himself to Gerard’s side and as Gerard looks down into Frank's eyes and gives him a small smile, fond and menacing and unfamiliar, rubbing a circle on Franks hand with his thumb. 

“Fuck,” Mikey mutters softly and Gerard's eyes snap back to him, once again looking guilty, “So that's how it is. What, are you trying to put together a fucking gang of serial killers or something? First me, then him, and then what? The next fucked up murderous motherfucker you happen to come across?” Mikey says, voice beginning to approach a level that he knows will clue the neighbors in on something they don't need to know but he can't bring himself to care, “Fuck you Gerard.”

“Mikey I thought…”

“I don't care what you thought,” Mikey cuts him off angrily, storming into his room and grabbing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt from the pile on the floor. He pulls them on quickly and grabs his backpack from the closet and slings it onto his shoulder before returning to the living room.

Gerard and Frank are arguing in quiet voices when he returns but they stop when they notice he's reappeared.

“Do you still have the camera?” Mikey asks, and Gerard nods, looking confused, “Can I have it? It's not like you need it right now, is it?”

Gerard looks like he's been shot but he pulls the camera gingerly out of his messenger bag and holds it out weakly in Mikeys direction.

“Thanks,” Mikey snaps, snatching it from his outstretched arm and shoving it into his own bag, “Do I even need to bother bringing it back this time? Or are we done trading pictures now that you've got fucking Frank?”

Gerard curls in on himself while Frank stares between the two of them in confusion.

“Why would Frankie mean we're done trading pictures?” 

Gerard sounds destroyed, and Mikey almost wants to take it all back, but another glance at Frank hovering so close he's almost plastered to Gerard's side and looking concerned makes his decision for him.

“You tell me Gerard.”

And then Mikey shoves past them and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

**×|×|×**

Come ten that evening Mikey is sitting in some shit hole bar in an even worse part of town than their apartment and nursing what he thinks is maybe his thirteenth vodka soda. After leaving the house he'd just wandered, hopping busses and doing everything he could to stay as far away from home as possible, until he walked past the bar around noon and saw someone flick on the open sign. After that he'd become a fixture in the booth by the bathrooms, slumped over the table and ordering drink after drink.

Why did Gerard have to be such a fucking asshole? Didn't he know, after all this time, the extent of Mikey's feelings for him? Didn't all of those drunken kisses mean anything to him? And why that fucking punk? What was so great about Frank anyways, to make Gerard abandon him like that?

Fucking hell.

Mikey downs his drink and gestures at the waitress, who nods and makes her way to the bar without coming over. He sighs deeply, feels it rattle deep in his lungs, and fumbles in his pocket for smokes.

Just as he lights up and tosses his lighter to the table a body lands in the booth across from him. It's a kid, definitely underage and probably a minor, not that Mikey's one to talk being not even a month over twenty-one but he hasn't been carded since he was sixteen so he's an old hand at this. This kid however, seems incapable of holding his liquor, as evidenced by his bodily fall into Mikey's booth.

The kid rights himself so that he's sitting across from Mikey, fingers laced in front of him and grinning, and _fuck_ this is so not what Mikey needs right now. He looks just like Frank, none of the tattoos but otherwise the resemblance is uncanny, so similar that Mikey's fingers are twitching around his cigarette to reach into his bag for the gun. That would cause a scene though, so he can't do anything here. Maybe if he can convince him to come home with him though?

“You looking for something?” Mikey says airily as the waitress sets down his drink and the kid blushes.

“More like someone,” He says, words slurred but a devilish glint visible in his eyes, and Mikey grins. It's so easy he doesn't even need to try.

“You wanna get out of here? My place isn't far maybe half an hour if we cut through the warehouse district.”

The kid grins and nods, standing up and holding his hand out to Mikey, so he downs his drink and stands up himself. He reaches back into the booth to retrieve his backpack and slings it over his shoulder before taking the kid’s hand and pulling him through the bar and out onto the road.

They make it to the warehouse district fairly fast despite the kid stopping every few blocks to pull Mikey into a dark corner and kiss him, and eventually the dark corner they end up in is one that Mikey’s familiar with.

“Fuck this,” He groans into the kid’s mouth, breaking away from the kiss to lock eyes with him. The kid’s face falls a bit but Mikey smiles gently to put him at ease, “I don’t think I can wait until we reach my place.”

The kid grins and raises his eyebrows.

“Well what else do you have in mind?”

MIkey grins and pulls free from the wall, taking the kid’s hand and leading him around a corner and further into the shadow until they reach a slightly hidden side door.

“I used to have a friend that knew all the best hiding places around town,” Mikey says, jimmying the handle lightly until the door gives and swings inward, “Said this ones good for getting up to something naughty,” The kid giggles and Mikey motions him inside, mockingly playing the role of the perfect gentleman, before casting a glance around and following him, jamming the door closed tightly behind them.

“Naughty, huh?” The kid asks teasingly, walking a slow circle around the room as Mikey drops his backpack to the floor and digs through it, “You feeling naughty tonight?”

Mikey stands up and chuckles.

“Very naughty,” Before the kid can respond Mikey has him pinned to the nearest wall, gun firmly against his head, “Now are you gonna be good for me?” The kid nods, panic evident on his face as tears begin to collect in the corners of his eyes, “Good boy,” He purrs, “Now, any last words?”

“Why are you doing this?” He manages to choke out as a broken sob shudders it’s way through his body and Mikey pulls back, staring him in the face and feeling another surge of anger as he once again takes in just how similar this kid looks to Frank.

Mikey takes the gun away from the kids head and tucks it into his belt, allowing him a small moment of relief before winding up and punching him in the face. He steps back quickly and lands another punch square to his solar plexus before he can recover, and then the floodgates burst.

“Because you took him away from me!” Mikey cries, face contorting with anger he continues to land blow after blow. A minute or so into the beating the kid breaks away from the wall and falls to the floor wheezing harshly but Mikey just follows him, flipping him onto his back and straddling his hips before continuing to lay into his face until he feels his knuckles start to crack.

“You took him from me,” Mikey growls into the kids face, “You with your stupid teenage runaway act, and your playground corpse, and your fucking asinine game of hide and seek. You stole my brother from me,” The kid blinks in confusion and Mikey can see the lights in his eyes starting to flicker, not permanently but like he might pass out, so he slaps him sharply across the face, “Just when I was finally breaking down that wall and making some progress, here comes fucking Frank to steal him out from under me. Fuck you.”

The kid whimpers and Mikey sits back and reaches for his pocket knife, flicking it open menacingly above the kid's face.

“You took him from me and now it's my turn to take something,” Mikey hisses, bringing the knife down to trace down the kids jawline gently before pulling it back up again and slamming it down into his chest.

Then he does it again. And again. And again.

And again.

**×|×|×**

By the time Mikey finally makes it home the sun has been up for a while and Gerard has probably already left for work so with any luck he should be able to sneak into his bedroom get ready for work without a problem. Unfortunately any luck Mikey may have had seems to have been spent last night convincing that stupid kid to follow him away from the bar.

“Gerard was worried about you.”

Mikey shoves past Frank and into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

“Seriously dude, we spent most of yesterday driving around looking for you after you stormed out.” Mikey turns to face Frank who still looks just as cocky and challenging as he did yesterday morning.

“Well he obviously wasn’t too worried or he would have called off of work today,” He turns back to the coffee maker and fills the pot with water.

“He was going to but apparently with both of you playing hooky yesterday you were gonna have trouble making rent or something,” Frank moves to lean against the counter next to the coffee pot and Mikey makes as much space between them as he can while he pours the water down the back and offers a noncommittal grunt in response, “So are you gonna tell me what the problem is,” Frank continues while nonchalantly hauling himself up to sit on the counter, “Or am I like, ‘persona non grata’ or something.”

“The latter,” Mikey grunts, pressing the button to start the coffee maker and turning to head to his room.

“Come on man, I’m not even technically here of my own free will, any problem you have with me is really a problem you have with your brother.”

Mikey stops, feeling the anger begin to well up again, and turns to face Frank.

“No. You existing is the problem. You showing up right when I was making progress and taking Gerard away from me is the problem,” Mikey stalks up to Frank and boxes him in with a hand pressed to the cupboards on either side of his head, “He was mine and you stole him from me.”

“From what i’ve seen Gerard doesn’t belong to anyone,” Frank is up in his face now, raising an eyebrow challengingly from barely an inch away and Mikey wants to pull back but he knows that Frank will see that as a win so he holds his ground, “And I belong to him so what does it really matter to you anyways if he really is yours? It’s not like I made him mine so I don’t think that really counts as theft.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it,” Mikey growls, leaning in closer so that their noses are nearly touching.

“Then why’d you get so upset that you took the camera? Gee filled me in on what that means by the way, did you find anyone?” Frank laughs when he doesn’t answer, “You did didn’t you? Can I see?”

Mikey searches Franks eyes for a moment and he can see why Gerard likes him, the way his face lights up at the concept of even just a photograph of a dead body and the the way the air of ‘Do it, I dare you’ never really leaves his eyes, it’s appealing. Maybe that’s why after a pause he nods and moves backwards to swing his backpack around so that he can retrive the photograph from the front pocket. He hands the polaroid over silently and watches as a sadistic smile, one so unlike Gerard’s and full of childlike glee, spreads across his face.

“Wow you really did a number on him,” Frank laughs, examining the picture closely, “He’s so different from the ones I found in Gee’s room. Why the sudden change?”

“I was thinking of you,” Mikey says before storming out of the kitchen to get dressed. By the time he returns to the kitchen to fill his travel mug the coffee pot is half empty and Frank is nowhere to be seen.

**×|×|×**

Mikey spends the next two weeks whenever he's not at work holed up in his room, coming out only when he absolutely needs food and coffee. He says maybe twelve words to Gerard in that time and only ever sees flashes of Frank. Sometime in the middle of the second week his fingers start to twitch and he starts making plans to go out again despite the fact that it normally takes him nearly twice as long to start needing someone else.

The other shoe drops at the end of the second week. It's nearly four in the morning and Mikey's been lying with his torso hanging off the end of his bed for the better part of an hour fiddling with a knife, the pretty obsidian one that came in a pair, trying not to hear Gerard and Franks muffled voices from the living room. Despite his best efforts he is acutely aware of the sounds of them turning off the TV and making their way to Gee's bedroom for the night. 

_Their_ bedroom, he corrects himself 

He tracks the sound of footsteps through the house, listening as the door makes its telltale squeak-and-groan and as the closet door slides open a few minutes later. A few moments later the bed springs groan loudly as if someone's thrown themselves onto the bed and Mikey waits for the second creak of the bed so that he can stop paying attention. It doesn't happen.

Instead the sound of footsteps once again begin to echo through the apartment. Soft and shuffling over the carpet at first, and then the groaning creaks of the floorboards in the kitchen, finally coming to a stop just outside his door where he can see the shadow of someone's feet under the crack. Mikey braces himself for the knock but it never comes, instead there's a quiet rustling and the sound of tearing paper, and then a single page is slipped beneath his door.

Mikey waits until he hears the footsteps retrace their path and he hears the final groan of _their_ bed, then he waits another half hour to make sure that they've actually gone to bed, trying his hardest the entire time to do anything other than stare at the paper at the foot of his door. Once he's fairly certain that he's waited long enough he springs from his bed, flopping face first onto the ground initially, retrieves the page and flips it over.

It's beautiful, the sketch, but Gerard's art always is. For a moment Mikey allows himself to wonder how Gerard knew that he was getting twitchy but the thought is quickly pushed aside by the realization that he can go out now, not tonight maybe given how late it is, but tomorrow. He has everything he needs and he doesn't have to wait anymore. The relief at that thought is nearly instantaneous.

Tomorrow.

**×|×|×**

It wasn't hard, getting her to follow him from the club, it's never been hard but now fully sated as he stands trying to convince himself to stop admiring his work and start packing up already he stops to think about how much easier it is every time. Thinks about how quickly they trust him and wonders why he even bothers with the gun anymore if he's never going to need it.

His silent contemplation is cut short by a voice ringing through the abandoned office and Mikey feels his heart stop.

“Your technique is solid, but your passion is lacking.”

Mikey turns on his heel to find Frank sitting on one of the desks behind him, face stoney but childlike glee evident in his eyes as he regards the body in front of them.

“And what would you know about my passion?” Mikey says icily, frozen to the floor, “How long have you been here anyways?”

“A while,” Frank answers noncommittally, hoping off the desk and stepping past Mikey to inspect the body further, “And I know that your putting it in the wrong place for one. Your doing this for him, not for you, because you love him and he doesn't love you back. Not in the way that you want anyways,” Frank turns to face him again, “So you keep trying to convince him, giving him exactly what you think he wants in the hopes that he'll suddenly want to fuck you just as bad as you want him to do it,” Mikeys heart jumps in his chest and he tightens his hands into fists as Frank brushes a strand of hair from his face, “And it never works, but you keep trying anyways, doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome like some insane fucker in the looney bin that the rest of the world would say that we all belong in. Does that about sum it up?”

Frank raises an eyebrow and Mikey can feel himself start to seethe.

“Why are you here? And who are you to come in here and make judgements on me?” Mikey spits, the contented feeling of a fresh kill already long gone, his fingers once again beginning to twitch.

“I'm here to tell you to stop avoiding Gee. I'm not gonna say he's not partially at fault for all this bullshit but he's as dense as a fucking rock as you probably know,” Frank gives him a pointed look, “And this jealous girlfriend act is fucking hurting him. So as someone who cares about your brother, to answer your second question, I'm here to tell you to knock it the fuck off,” Frank glances back at the girl, letting a grin break through his stoney mask, “I may also be here to see you in action, but that's not really relevant to my argument.”

Mikey just stares, anger fading, as Frank makes his way over to where he's left his backpack and begins to pack away the knives and other miscellaneous tools scattered around the body. And then as Frank retrieves the camera, snaps a photo of the girl, and hands the developing polaroid to Mikey as he puts the camera in with everything else zips up the bag and slings it over his shoulder. He gives the whole scene a quick once-over before turning back to Mikey.

“I borrowed the van do you want a lift home?” Frank says, eyebrow raised as he once again brushes the hair out of his face. Mikey nods and they make their way out of the office and down the twelve blocks that Frank apparently decided was a good enough buffer zone to the van in silence. Once in the engine roars to life Frank leans between the seats and retrieves a tape from Gerard's box, inserting it into the radio without comment and pulls out of the parking lot. When the first song begins to play Mikey starts and looks at Frank questioningly.

“Gee said you like the Smashing Pumpkins,” Frank says with a shrug and a sidelong glance and they fall into a slightly more comfortable silence.

The trip home is quick and before they reach Zero Frank is pulling into the parking lot at the apartment. He kills the engine and the music cuts off sharply leaving them in total silence again. They sit there for a minute, neither making a move to open a door, before Frank opens his mouth to speak.

“I-”

“Thank you,” Mikey cuts him off, fiddling with the photograph in his lap, “I'm not sure whether I like you yet but everything you said I needed to hear so, ya'know, Thanks. Sorry I've been such a dick I guess.”

Frank snorts, “You guess?” followed by a short huffy laugh, “Well you're welcome… I guess,” Frank laughs again and cracks a grin in Mikeys direction, “Now let's go see if Gee's drank all the booze in our absence or if he's been kind enough to leave some for us.”

Mikey laughs as Frank cracks open his door and follows suit, climbing out and retrieving his backpack from the back seat.

“I have some weed if he hasn't,” Mikey offers jokingly, and Frank lets lose a real laugh as he pulls open the door to the complex.

“You're kinda cool when you aren't being a dick Mikeyway, you know that?”

“So I've heard,” Mikey huffs, still grinning tentatively.

**×|×|×**

Things are almost okay.

Within barely three days the Way brothers, plus Frank this time, once again settle into a new normal. Frank is actually surprisingly cool, much to Mikeys chagrin, and slowly he can feel himself beginning to warm up to him. 

They all get drunk together and end up in a heated discussion about Batman during which Frank ends up climbing into Mikey’s _lap_ because apparently Gerards opinions on Bruce Wayne are so abhorrent that he “might be with the wrong brother” which causes Mikey to choke on his rum and coke, and later when Gerard reaches the point of horny drunk and starts trying to drag Frank off to their room instead of kissing Mikey as per usual he pushes back the flood of emotions trying to choke him and downs the rest of the bottle of rum before excusing himself to his room where he blasts the Misfits through his headphones until he passes out.

Then when Gerard goes out over the weekend a couple days later, Frank in tow, Mikey waits up for the both of them each night and does his best to ignore how much Frank is limping when they return. Gerard gives him another polaroid as expected and Frank hands him a bag of weed and a finger bone with a childish grin and a less inoccent wink. Mikey snorts and goes to retrieve the bong from his room and tries not to flinch when Gerard reappears in different clothes and kisses Frank for a solid minute before heading off to work, instead taking a hit and passing the bong to a slightly dazed Frank once Gee shuts the door.

Soon after Frank starts following him to work in the mornings, hanging around the comic shop chatting about anything and everything but mostly music for a significant portion of his shifts and rolling joints for them on his lunch breaks and stealing his cigarettes because both of them agree that Gerard is insane for smoking menthols, and Mikey quietly decides that he likes Frank even if he doesn’t like Frank being Gerards. It’s nice, he thinks to himself, to have someone who knows the real him that he is neither related to nor in love with and following that reasoning he stops resisting Frank’s attempts to smooth everything over into something resembling domesticity again.

So things are almost okay.

**×|×|×**

On Halloween a few weeks later Gerard is stuck at a work party and Mikey plans to veg out on the couch with some weed and vodka and all three Scream movies and make Frank deal with the trick-or-treaters.

“Did you get the candy?” He asks as the door opens behind him while he digs through the bookshelf to figure out which case Gee put the disc for the first movie in after they watched it last year.

“Nope,” Mikey can hear Frank’s grin and he turns around to give him an exasperated glare.

“You have to be the one to tell the gremlins that we don’t have anything for them then.” 

“Won’t be a problem,” Franks grin grows just a little “We’re not going to be here, go get dressed I have something to show you.”

“No way, I plan to get royally fucked up in front of a shitty horror movie and that’s what I’m going to do.” Mikey says turning back to the bookshelf and popping open another case

“Come on Mikeyway it’s my birthday, all i want for my present is for you to come see what i have to show you.” Frank whines, coming up to lean on the bookshelf so that he can pout theatrically in Mikey’s line of sight.

“Bullshit it’s your birthday, Gee would have tried harder to get out of that party.” Mikey finally finds the disk inside their copy of Lost Boys and goes to hit the power button on the dvd player.

“I didn’t tell him,” Frank pouts harder, “Please Mikeyway, come with me.”

“Prove that it's your birthday and I'll consider it.” Mikey says absently as he waits for the player to boot up.

The next moment there's a old battered ID in his face and he jerks his head back and looks up at Frank who just nods his head at it. Mikey takes it. It's a learners permit that expired years ago and the picture looks like it could have been taken yesterday if not for the lack of tattoos. _Frank Iero_ , it says, _DOB: 10/31/1981_. Mikey looks up at Frank who has his eyebrows raised and sighs loudly.

“Fucking fine, I'll go get dressed.”

Frank grins cockily and Mikey snorts before heading off to his room.

Once in the van they drive for nearly an hour, going out of town and down back roads until they reach a small rundown house and Frank parks the car, oddly quiet now compared to his good mood back at the apartment. Mikey wants to say something but as they sit there staring at the house there's an aura of seriousness coming off of Frank that makes him keep his mouth shut. They continue to sit in silence for a while and Frank lights a cigarette. Mikey lights one too. Eventually Frank speaks.

“When I was fourteen I had a boyfriend named Matt,” Frank says, voice curiously blank, “He was twenty-five, he played the drums, he told me I was cool and more mature than any of the other teenagers he knew and he didn’t think I was a creep for being obsessed with Jeffrey Dahmer.” Frank pauses and lights another cigarette, “And at the time I thought I was in love with him. We used to hang around out here a lot, it was a good place to have parties, and on my fifteenth birthday we threw a big one out here.

“He kept bringing me drinks. All night whenever my drink was about half empty he would suddenly appear with another and I'd have to down the one that I had in my hand to accept it. Eventually I was so drunk that I could barely stand, so I told him that I was going to hide in one of the bedrooms and take a nap.”

“Frank-” Mikey starts but he gets cut off by a loud sigh and he backs off, allowing Frank to continue talking.

“I'd only been in there for a couple minutes when he came in, I was nearly asleep so I didn't really think much of him joining me in the bed, 'figured he was just planning on crashing with me for a bit. Then he started to undo my belt,” Frank chuckles but it sounds off, “I'll save you the details, you can probably figure out what happened next anyways, but once he dropped me off at home the next morning I started to make a plan. 

“I broke up with him a few weeks later and then I spent the next three months making sure that I was ready, that my plan was airtight, and soon after that I tailed him to the park where he would meet with his dealer and I split him from groin to sternum and left him on the top of the slide.” Frank lights a third cigarette and remains silent after that.

“Why are you telling me this?” Mikey says after a while, breaking the tense silence.

Frank throws his cigarette butt out the window and turns to face him, his face blank.

“Because I can't tell your brother, not really, not after how things played out the night we met,” Frank sighs and looks back at the house, “And because you need to figure out why you do this in the first place, what you really need from it. I do it because someone fucked me up and I don't feel okay without it, and Gerard does it because he can't not, but you? You do it because you think you have to. Even if you need it now, even if after all this time it's become part of who you are, you're doing this for him and you're trying way too hard to be exactly like Gee every time.”

Mikey looks down at his fingers and tries to process what Frank is trying to say.

“So why are we here?” He nearly chokes on the simple question under the gravity of the situation but Frank looks at him again and cracks a smile.

“We're here because I got you a present,” Frank chuckles a little, sounding more like his normal self again, “And my present is going to be watching you enjoy it.” And with that Frank is opening his door and climbing out, making his way to the front door of the abandoned house and leaving Mikey no choice but to follow him.

There's dude passed out and tied to a chair in the houses kitchen and a good number of Mikey's knives and tools spread out on the table next to him. Mikey stares, gaze flicking between Frank and the guy, not exactly sure what to make of the whole scene. Frank shoots him a cocky grin and then stalks over to the guy, slapping him across the face and then holding his head up by the hair once he begins to stir.

“This is Pete,” Frank says cheerily, finally shaking the last traces of the seriousness he had back in the van, “I found him at a bar, and I want you to do him the way you want to. No sketches from Gee, no lovelorn rage, just… use your imagination.”

Mikey raises his eyebrows at Frank while Pete looks between the two of them frantically, making desperate noises from behind the tape over his mouth.

“I'm not sure I can, I've never-”

“Sure you can Mikeyway, just pick something you think'll be interesting and do it, gut him, break him, hell we could even let him lose and you can chase him through the house.” Frank says pulling Pete's head back and looking him in the eyes while he squirms, “He looks pretty strong, I could help you skin him alive if you want?” He looks back up at Mikey, keeping a firm grip on Pete's hair as he tries to pull away, “Just pick something. Anything.”

A contemplative frown forms on Mikey's face as he scans Pete and the tools Frank has laid out on the table. After a moment he chuckles, an idea forming in his head.

“Do we have any fishing line?” Mikey says, staring darkly at Pete.

Frank grins as if he already knows what Mikey is thinking, he probably does actually given he's gotten almost as good at reading Mikey's mind like Gerard can in the past few weeks, and makes his way over to a duffle bag tucked away in the corner of the room. A few minutes later he straightens up, fishing line in hand, and walks over to hand it to Mikey.

“Do you need the bone saw or are we gonna do this the old fashioned way?” Pete makes a terrified squeak and Mikey turns to Frank, allowing a small grin to spread across his face.

“The old fashioned way.”

**×|×|×**

By the time that they get home Gerard is settled on the couch, halfway through both a bottle of vodka and Scream 2, and looking worried. He relaxes a bit once he has eyes on them but the set of his shoulders is still tense.

“Where'd you guys go? I thought you were gonna stay in.” Mikey can hear the unproposed worry in his voice, _I thought one of you finally took out the other_ , and chuckles a little, throwing the polaroid at him as Frank takes off his jacket to reveal his now blood soaked white t-shirt.

“Just a little fun Gee,” Frank says moving over to the couch to steal a kiss while Gerard stares at the photo, “I'm gonna go shower,” And then he disappears into the bathroom, throwing Mikey a pointed look as he goes.

Mikey stands next to the couch for a minute watching Gerard’s face as he studies the polaroid.

“You and Frankie…” Gerard says after a long moment, looking up to meet Mikeys eyes, “Went out together?”

“Is that okay?” Mikey asks, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“No yhea, it's fine. Just,” Gerard takes swig from the bottle of vodka and passes it to Mikey, “I thought you didn't really like him much ya'know, that you were just being nice for my sake.”

“I like Frank,” Mikey says after a minute taking a swig of his own from the bottle, “It wasn't him that was the problem.”

“Does that mean the problem was me?” Gerard asks quietly

“No Gee never, it was me, I just had some stuff I needed to work through,” Mikey takes another swig, “Still need to work through, actually. But it's fine, I'll get myself sorted out eventually.” He hands the bottle back to Gerard and the two of them sit in silence and watch the movie for a little while.

“But things are okay, right?” Gerard says just as the shower shuts off.

“Yhea Gee, things are okay.”

Frank lands on the couch between them wearing nothing but a towel and holding Mikey's bong in one hand and a baggie of weed in another.

“Went into your room hope you don't mind,” Frank says as he sets the bong on the table and begins to load a bowl, and both of them laugh.

“What I mind is the fact that your not wearing clothes,” Mikey says trying to glare at Frank through his laughter.

“Clothes are boring Mikeyway,” Frank says handing the loaded bong to him, “Besides you know you wanna see my dick,” He laughs but gets cut off by Gerard smacking him upside the head.

“Stop terrorising him and go put on some sweats Frankie,” Gerard says with an annoyed smile.

Frank pouts mockingly at the two of them but he gets up off the couch and head to their room, mumbling something about how 'no one around here appreciates my beauty’ as he goes. Mikey snorts and goes to take a hit, passing the bong to Gerard with a small smile after he exhales, who returns it gently.

 _Yhea_ , Mikey thinks to himself as Gerard takes a hit and then stands up to swap out the movie, _things are okay_.

**Author's Note:**

> Rays part of this is nowhere near as far along as this one was when Die Like Star-Crossed Lovers was posted so it will probally be a while longer until I get it posted but it is further along than it was so hopefully I'll have it up by the new year but no promises. One again no beta but I have had a few people read the thing before throwing it into the great wild yonder of the internet.
> 
> And once again having spent enough time on tumblr I feel obliged to use this opportunity to tell any antis or those who subscribe to anti thought-crime rehtoric to back the fuck off becuase I don't care and no amount of harassment will make me care thank you.


End file.
